The Banner
by Jonn Wood
Summary: What if the Browncoats never lost?
1. Suffering Witch

Dr. Simon Tam was a slim, dark-haired man walking through a marketplace. He saw his sister and stopped dead.

She had been crossing the other side of the open area, and he had caught a flash of raven's-wing hair. Out of habit more than hope, he had checked himself, and decided to follow her. Wouldn't take more than five minutes, if it really was her.

She was wearing some sort of kimono. Dark red flowers on wheat. Whoever she was led him through a few back alleys before he caught up to her.

He had rehearsed this moment, hundreds of times. What he would say to, the questions he would ask, but strangely enough, he couldn't think of anything.

Doctor Tam steeled his heart. He balanced hope and fear, fear engendered by dozens of disappointments, dozens of encounters just like this one. He touched her shoulder.

She whirled, glared at him, tossed her hair.

"Hello, Simon," River said.

* * *

"Witness Protection," she said.

"Really," said Simon dryly. He wanted to reach across the table, to hug her and throttle her at the same time. It was a familiar feeling.

"Really."

Pause. The clink of a spoon on a cup, the muted white noise of traffic outside, the hum of the cappuccino machine.

"Remember when I used to walk home with Anna Friedlichs? Well, one day we saw something." She leaned in closer. "I didn't tell you, but we saw something. She told her parents, and then someone tried to hurt them."

She stopped as their coffees arrived, running a finger over the curve of her ear. Simon made the waitress's day by smiling at her.

"Two sugars?"

"Yes, please. They had to go into hiding, for their protection. And so did I. The operatives decided it was best if you and Mom and Dad didn't know anything."

"You're lying," Simon said tiredly.

River tensed, a drawn bowspring in pretty clothes. "I'm not. I'm working as an actress. I don't get to dance as much as I'd like-"

"No, I mean there's no Anna Friedlich. There never was." He reached for the sugar. "Just like there wasn't any Acadamy, and just like the way you wrote to us about balls that nev-"

"What did you put in my latte?"

Simon blinked, looked down. Obviously paranoid. "Sugar."

River glared at him.

"Look," he said slowly. I'll switch cups. I don't like sugar, but if it'll make you explain…"

Slowly, River settled back into her seat. She cautiously took a sip. Her eyes flicked up and to the right.

"I know there's no Anna. I can't tell you her real name. I shouldn't even be here-"

Simon did nothing as she bolted the rest of his drink and got up to leave. She paused, curious. "Aren't you going to try to stop me?"

"I already did."

River blinked. Then her world went fuzzy and tilted.

"I could tell you were accessing your brain's creative centres when your eyes went up and to the right. That means you're full of _go se_," Simon said quietly, his voice reaching her like they were coming through water. The ceiling started to rise.

Simon Tam caught his sister neatly as her eyes rolled back in her head.

"It's okay," he said to the concerned waitress. "I'm a doctor"

* * *

Author's Note: This AU is partially based on stories and characters created by ScrewTheAlliance, who you should go read anyway. Remove the spaces in the line below and replace the "," with a ".", and that's the link. Or just Google it.

bit,ly / dcis60


	2. Sudden but Inevitable

I'm a dead man walking down a skinny trail.  
**-tobyMac's "Yours"**

Once upon a time, River Tam was a swan.

She was very good at it. Everyone agreed she leaped through the air just like the real thing, and she had the very _best_ feathers. The joy she felt in her part was enough to keep her bright, bold mind happy and content. Even Simon, brother Simon, always so _serious_(he was going to be a doctor, you know), would be there, right next to his parents. Like so many young men in college, he had grown his hair out. But tonight, just for tonight, he had tied it back with a fine, fine ribbon, and River could feel his love for her shining from him like a spotlight.

Sir Arnold Pau Fa was in the balcony.

He knew about the girl, of course. His department kept very close watch on these bright, bold little girls, and Miss Tam was a particularly bright star even in that firmament. Sir Arnold knew she was fourteen, and had long, slim limbs.

So slender.

The hand on his arm twitched a little, and he turned to smile at his wife. They didn't have children of their own, and according to the finest doctors, never would. Just as well, Sir Arnold preferred not to eat where he lay. Whenever he met these girls, when he gave them gifts, when he reached for the woman inside of them-

There was a noise.

The young man who had entered the balcony was named Cho, and he was hiding his feelings well. Only a trained bodyguard would've noticed the slight trembling of his hands, or the intensity of his gaze. The two outside the balcony had been distracted by a vagrant at the theatre's entrance. Cho had slipped a few credits to said vagrant for his trouble, and was carrying his grandfather's service pistol.

Sir Arnold reached for his PDA, with an apologetic look at his wife. He had the forms on it for some time, and though he made a pretense of hemming and hawing, he really had been curious to see Candidate Tam close up, not through captures. It took only a few seconds to sign and transmit, and he sent the device into sleep-mode, unaware that Cho was aiming his weapon at the head of the man who had gotten to know his younger sister _very_ well. Who had given her presents and smiles and a swollen belly, who had as good as killed her and Cho's stillborn nephew.

It might've comforted Sir Arnold to know that his killer would be caught within hours, and executed speedily and quietly, that the knowledge of his dalliances would never be made public-for his wife's sake, of course. It might've helped if he knew the girl he had just fast-tracked to a special Academy would set worlds a-shiver. It might've helped to know that he was so instrumental in Alliance war efforts that the confusion caused by his death allowed a vital shipment to reach the Independents, one that would prolonged the war indefinitely. It might've helped to know that because he died, Alliance brass would never get around to testing a drug called "Pax" on a world called Miranda.

Then again, it might not have comforted him at all.

* * *

**Several years later**

The shortish man with the Dyton accent stared as a well-dressed young man was bought into his presence, a delirious young girl on his arm.

Entirely by coincidence, it happened to be the second time that week.

"Doctor Tam? What are you doing here?"

"Well, Mr. W-"

"Badger," corrected the criminal mastermind.

"Mr. _Badger_, I need to get off the world."

"Find a travel agency."

"That's why I'm standing here, Mr. Whedon."

Badger winced. "Quiet. Not many people know my real name."

"Oh, is that _so_, Mr. Whedon? How many of those people saved your _life_, Mr. Whedon?"

"Shut up, shut _up_!" Badger was looking this way and that, like a nervous squirrel in a bowler hat. "All right, I'll help you. But after this, all square, agreed?"

"Agreed." And then, because he was a doctor. "How's it feel?"

"A bit stiff in cold weather, but nothing I can't handle. Come on."

Funny thing about docks; since time out of mind, they had attracted a certain type of ne'er do well element. Simon recalled the antique books he had read, hundreds of years old, where the authours went into great detail about the kind of people usually looking to perform certain services for sailors. This had persisted even after humanity made its leap for the stars. It wasn't helped by the fact that someone had decided to put the city's skydock and seadock right next to each other, so the unlikely trio wove their way through various containers with Blue Sun or Eclipse logos on them. On the other hand, with all the bolt-holes and side passages, anyone tracking them would have a remarkably difficult time.

On the other hand, having several large men with you was good for keeping people out of your way.

"Here we are," Badger announced.

"I don't see anything."

Badger opened a container's door.

"Ah."

The container was linked, via cheap wood and other building materials, to another container, with sections partitioned off to form bedrooms, a bathroom, suchlike. There was even a little kitchenette.

"Spartan," Simon noted.

"Home," Badger countered. "you planning to lay your burdens down anytime soon?"

Problem. He didn't want River at the far end of the bedroom container, where she would be trapped, but if he put her at the closer end, she'd be both closer to the bathroom and closer to escape. And closer to other things.

"Uh-"

Badger sneered. "What do you think of me? I'm a businessman, not a rapist. Besides, she's too young n' bony for me anyway."

"She's a dancer," Simon said absently, as he laid River down.

"Like I said. Besides, I am _absolutely sure_ that my men here share my preferences. Isn't that right, gentlemen?"

A chorus of "yes".

"Are you sure she'll be safe with you?"

"Safe as anywhere else. How much trouble can one little girl be?"

The doctor thought about his little sister, and tried not to snort out loud as he left.

* * *

Simon had never been good at attachments; it was a family trait. River, at any dinner she didn't want to attend, would stare at her plate and mutter scientific theorems under her breath until the guests were uncomfortable. Then she would look up and be the perfect little girl for the balance of the dinner. On several occasions, young Simon had had to hide his snorts behind his spoonful of Beijing Duck.

He had also inherited his father's emotional reticence; all of his relationships had ended in disaster, including one amusing incident involving a theatre, a rubber duck, and the fire department. Sometimes Simon wondered if he wouldn't be better off with someone a little less polished, someone not groomed for high society, someone who wouldn't try to hit him over the head with a club and drag him back to her cave, metaphorically speaking.

Preferably someone with red hair.

As a result, all it took for him to abandon everything he had ever known was to pick up a bag he kept in his closet for just such an occasion. As well as get his gun out of the drawer.

There had been a vogue, a while ago, and Simon's then-girlfriend had dragged him to the gun range. The man who sold it to him had been smirking, but it seemed to work well enough. Not that he was familiar with the manner and method of bullets from this side of the trigger.

He donned his chest-_shoulder_-holster, checked the action, checked the safety, and slipped the Chekhov in. On impulse, he yanked it from the sheath and aimed it at an imaginary opponent. "Deadeye Tam, scourge of the spaceways," he muttered. "Better lock up your wives and daughters!"

Then he sighed., and holstered the gun. Who was he fooling? He could barely use the thing. _River_ would probably do better with it than him. With her eyes closed.

Maybe he'd meet someone who could teach him how to shoot.

Bag? Check. Gun? Check. Letter to Mom and Dad? No, no time, and it'd only put them in danger. Photo?

Photo?

The only piece of personal decoration Simon had, the only one he really cared about, was a photograph of River, the last night he saw her. She had been a swan, in her school play. They had taken a capture just after the show, before she went to the Academy, but that one had been corrupted. And besides, that one was the whole family. This one was River.

Just River. Smiling.

Simon sighed and shoved the device into his bag. Then he walked away from everything he'd ever known.

He took the elevator, and just missed the two men in dark suits coming up the stairs.

They gained access to Tam's room in seconds. They found it empty, and noted the dust pattern on the shelf in the closet, indicative of something having been there for a long time. No money anywhere, and the gun registered to Tam was missing. His computer had nothing incriminating on it, but they copied and wiped it anyway.

One of the men removed a small, complicated-looking device from his briefcase, and placed it on the floor, before joining his colleague in the hallway, leaving the door open.

They waited for the elevator patiently. As they stepped into it, there was a dull _whoompf_.

The taller one smiled, and pressed the LOBBY button with a hand of blue.

* * *

"His Majesty returns," said Badger.

Simon didn't bother to respond to the sarcasm. "What's wrong?"

"Your little sister is starting to...damage my calm," said Badger, and opened the door to the room. It was something like a monk's cell; just the basic instruments of life. Simon noted that everything that could be used as a weapon had been removed.

And, of course, most monk's cells didn't have a girl in a soiled dress coiled up in the bed babbling nonsense to herself.

"-the penitent man is humble before God the dying hope of miscellaneous miscreants end of line-"

"What did you _do_ to her?"

"Well, excuse me, princess, but I didn't lay a 'and on her. She just started-" he gestured "-_talkin_'."

Simon sighed. Another complication. "She must've had an adverse reaction to the sedative." He knelt by the bed. "River? River, can you hear me?"

Her eyes focused on some point on the far side of his head. He turned to look, but there was nothing there. When he turned back, she was inches from his face.

"Big bold Simon and his big bold sword," she said in an eerie imitation of Badger's voice. "Think you'll make a Judas of me? I think _not_."

"River, I don't know what they did to you, but I want to help."

"Poor, poor Peter." She reached up with a trembling hand and touched-just touched-the angle of his jaw. "You've no armour, and wear all your 'urts for the world to see. Turn the bird loose, for both your sakes."

"I think that's some kind of metaphor," Badger said, and Simon jumped. The little man and his little hat had managed to get right next to him, and he was peering at River with open curiousity. Nothing else, Simon noted. Just the interest of the sane in the mad.

"Well, obviously. She wants me to let her go or the Alliance will come down on both of our heads."

Badger cleared his throat. "About that-"

"What?"

"That's what I came in to talk to you about." He pulled a pad from his pocket. Simon winced.

"Not a good capture of you, Doctor Tam," Badger angled the pad slightly. "Is this picture from your driver's license?"

Simon looked at it. "I think it is." And he started to laugh.

"What so funny?"

"Nothing much. I've just kidnapped an Alliance agent, left my job without notice, and now I'm a wanted fugitive." He wiped some tears from his eyes. "Mother would be _so_ proud."

* * *

Simon opened his eyes to darkness. He rolled over to find his clock, but there was nothing there. And these sheets weren't the high-grade silk he used. Whose bed was he sleeping in? And why had he had that dream about River, the one he hadn't had in-

Oh.

As his eyes adjusted, Simon fumbled at his watch, squinted at the luminous green numbers. River was in the next bed over, and he called her name, softly. She stirred.

"I know you're awake,"

Silence.

"I'm sorry I didn't come to get you sooner."

Silence.

"I wanted to come, but the first time I tried, they caught me, and I just...gave up. Not really, since I started carrying around the sedative. Do you know how easy it is to steal a decent quantity of hospital-grade meds out of a storeroom? I could make a living doing that, if I wanted to. Simon Tam, professional thief. Think of how happy that'd make Mom and Dad, River."

He cut himself off, his rambling.

"I suppose my point is that...I'm sorry I wasn't there for you. And I promise, no matter what happens, I will always be there for you. I won't leave you this time. _Dong ma_?"

Silence. Then a snore.

Simon groaned.

* * *

The next morning's meal was runny protein-eggs, cooked by a brilliant young trauma surgeon. Badger and his crew said they needed more salt. River nibbled a waffle in a perfect spiral. Simon got a lot of mileage out of a giggle he now recognized as nearly hysterical, and the only thing his stomach would take was coffee.

"Don't suppose you caught the morning waves, Doctor?" Badger turned on the news.

"-the apartment was unoccupied at the time, and its owner, Doctor Simon Tam, has not been seen since yesterday. Citizens with information are urged to report to the special hotline below. In sporting news-"

River cocked her head. "Nooot a good picture of you."

"I'm told that two men in suits were seen near your building just before the fire started," Badger said. "You just missed them, in fact, when you left to get your little travellin' bag."

"So they've upgraded from wanted posters," Simon mused. "I think my sister and I need to get off-world as soon as possible."

"That's probably a good idea."

* * *

And so, Simon, River, and Badger left for the docks, with their escort.

They passed without notice or comment. What was one more wanted criminal in that part of the city?

Badger stopped at the entrance to a certain section of the port, and turned to Simon.

"Your contact is at Slip 63." He tapped the brim of his hat. "If you get caught, you never met me, understand? I expect you'll crack eventually, but try to give me enough time to move my operation, yeah?"

"Thank you for the help, Mr. Whedon." Simon shifted his grip on River so he could stick out a hand. The crime lord took it firmly. "One question-"

"Because I owe you a favor," said Badger, a little too quickly.

"No, not that. Why 'Badger'?"

The little man's eyebrow quirked up. "It was what my sister called me." He turned away. "Try not to die."

"I like your hat," River called after him.

They found the slip without too much trouble, dockworkers just happening to look the other way. Plausible deniability.

It was small, just big enough for a smaller ship, or a shuttle. Simon didn't really know the difference.

There was a broad-shouldered man in a remarkably unobtrusive suit scanning the area, large, dark shades over a neatly trimmed beard.

The woman supervising the loading turned to the Tams as they approached. She was wearing a sober grey suit, hair pulled up in a bun that stretched her face.

Nonetheless, her dark hair and expressive eyes were such that Simon found himself blushing when she smiled at the new arrivals.

"Hello, Doctor," she said. "I'm Ambassador Serra."

* * *

Badger stood staring at the den for a few minutes.

"Nice place, isn't it?"

"Boss?"

"Nevermind. Whoever put the torch to pretty-boy's place will be sniffing about for him. I want them to find trackless ground and no scent, understand?"

"Got it."

"Good. Now to find a good drink."

A ramshackle building burned down that day. wood, no consequence, probably from the slipshod construction common to the Persephone docks, or someone leaving a stove on. Whatever it was, the bodies found in the rubble were badly burned, matching the body types of one "Badger" Whedon and several of his associates, with teeth removed. Positive identification would take several days.

Two men in suits were briefly seen at the scene. Onlookers assumed they were forensic investigators, judging by their blue latex gloves.

* * *

**Sir Arnold Pau Fa created by ScrewTheAlliance, at FireflyFans[dot]Net, for "Unfinished Business".**


End file.
